When Cujo Meets Sam
by silver ruffian
Summary: A standalone story from Cujo Winchester Explains It All. Sam's at Stanford; months later John and Dean separate to cover more ground. One day Dean checks up on Sasquatch at college and Cujo decides to take a closer look at Sam. 2ND CHAPTER ADDED. NOW COMPLETE.
1. big shaggy

_**A/N:**_ I originally intended this to be a later chapter, but I didn't want to make you guys wait for it, so here it is. For those of you who haven't read _Cujo Winchester Explains It All_, here's the premise: after Sam Winchester leaves for Stanford, Dean is adopted by a feisty Manx cat female. He names her Cujo, and she joins John and Dean on hunts. Cujo's negative opinion of Sam is hers and hers alone and should come as no surprise to anyone who's read her story.

_**Summary:**_ A standalone story from _Cujo Winchester Explains It All._ Sam's at Stanford; months later John and Dean separate to cover more ground. One day Dean checks up on Sasquatch at college and Cujo decides to take a closer look at Sam.

_**Timeline: **_In an upcoming chapter of _CWEIA_ Dean, Cujo and John go to Blue Earth to see Pastor Jim. This takes place afterwards, which is why Cujo refers to Pastor Jim as 'the jesus man.'

* * *

**_Part 1 - big shaggy_**

I woke up Tuesday morning, curled up in my duffel on Dean's bed, same as usual. I yawned as I stood up. My eyes were slits but I didn't have to see what I was doing. I leaned down on my front legs and arched my back in a really good long stretch that loosened up everything from my nose to the finger crook of my tail.

I was ready for the day.

First thing in the morning I always wake Dean up. I usually walk on his stomach and knead, with my claws out just a little.

_I'm here, and you're mine. Mine mine mine. _

Sometimes he wasn't asleep. Sometimes he'd just lie there with his eyes closed. He never fooled me. I could feel the awakeness in his skin. When my claws pricked his skin too much for him to lie still he'd flinch a little and then open his eyes and laugh.

" 'm up, princess. 'm up."

I always stretch my neck out so he can scratch me underneath my chin. Then I'd jump down off the bed and go explore the corners where ever we spent the night. It's always good to check things out and make sure that everything is in its place as it should be. Rooms are tricky. Sometimes things move around.

I never bothered those salt lines. The first time I saw Dean lay one down, I was curious until I realized it wasn't food and it didn't move. So what was the point?

Dean told me, and I never forgot it: Sometimes the things we hunt try to get in from the outside, and kill us while we sleep.

Well, _that_ wouldn't do.

Before I was done with my inspection Dean would always pour dry food and fresh water into my bowls. That was the way our mornings would go, when we had down time and weren't hunting or staggering back in from a night hunt. I never understood what 'down time' meant anyway. We weren't down. Down where?

Anyway, that morning I opened my eyes after I stretched. Same as always.

But it wasn't. Dean wasn't on his bed beside me. He had his clothes on. He was up already. He was right in front of me, standing near the door.

Most of our stuff was already packed up.

I laid my ears back. I didn't like this at all. This was not our normal routine. Dean was awake and up and what I felt from him made my fur feel all stiff and my skin itchy. He was sad and excited at the same time, but mostly sad.

Dean poured some dry food into my bowl, winked at me and said, "Eat up, kiddo. Road trip. We're going to Stanford."

Stanford? Didn't ring any bells at first, but then I remembered Dean showing me those pieces of paper you humans call photos. "We carry them around in case we get lost or separated," he said. I don't understand that part either. I _always_ know where I am.

My memory for flat things isn't that good, but I remembered the other scent on one of the photos he showed me. I kept smelling that strange human on the duffels and some of the sharp pointy things Dean cleans all the time.

_"See? That's Dad. There's you and me. And there's my brother, Sammy." Dean sounded sad. "He left us, went to Stanford."_

That was the first time I ever felt him like that, and I didn't like it. I wanted to slash whatever made him sad in the first place.

Stanford.

Big shaggy boy was at Stanford.

I jumped off the bed, walked over and stared at the food in my bowl, but I didn't feel like eating. Dean frowned at me when he saw that I wasn't eating, so I ate a few bits of kibble anyway, just to make him feel better. Afterwards I rubbed up against his legs as he walked around the room gathering up our stuff.

When he opened the door I went outside and did my business. Just as I scratched at the grass I heard the big black car growl as Dean woke it up. They didn't go anywhere, just sat there waiting for me, but I ran anyway. Dean opened the door on his side and I jumped up onto the back of the seat. I put one paw on his shoulder, leaned forward and rubbed my chin against the side of his face and neck.

He still felt sad to me.

My duffel was on the seat right next to him. I jumped down and he ran his hand slowly over my back, just the way I like it. Then I settled down in the duffel. Dean skritched me behind the ears. I grunted and slow blinked at him.

He closed the door. The black car growled like an angry dog and we were on the road again.

* * *

Stanford wasn't what I thought it would be.

I thought it was going to be full of screaming humans and blood and dark things we'd have to kill. The closer we came to the place, the sadder and more nervous Dean became. I sat up in my duffel and my claws came out.

Stanford was bright and sunny, with green grass and trees. It was full of humans, but they all carried books. They walked, they didn't run and they didn't scream. There was no blood either. Not what I expected.

Dean pulled the car over and parked. He pulled this yellow piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and he bit his lower lip as he looked at it.

"Ummm...lessee...Sasquatch's got Ethics Class in another hour...Building H." Dean squinted at the paper. "It's quarter to twelve now, so chances are he's out studying like he was the last time."

Dean looked down at me and grinned a little. "Let's go see Sammy, huh?"

I laid my ears back. I didn't want to, but I didn't move, not even when he picked me and my duffel up and slung it over his shoulder. I heard the car door creak and off we went.

* * *

I poked my head up out of the bag and sniffed the air. The Samscent was stronger now.

We were in a grassy place. People came and went, and nobody noticed or looked at us. Dean stood behind this tree. I wondered why he did that.

I stood up, put my paws on his right shoulder. Dean didn't say anything, and the sadness in his skin became even worse. It really made my fur itch. I saw what he was looking at.

_Who_ he was looking at.

There were tables and benches a distance away. More people. More books.

I saw that Sam boy.

He sat at a table near the center. His back was to Dean, but I saw that big shaggy hair, and those slumped shoulders. It was him, all right.

He sat at this round table with all these books scattered around. There was a girl sitting with him. She was smaller and blonde.

My ears and my tail twitched back and forth. My claws came out a little more and my nose was wide open, and all I could see was that Sam boy. He was the cause of Dean being sad, and I wanted a closer look at him.

So I climbed over Dean's shoulder and jumped down to the ground.

That startled Dean.

He really didn't like it when I stepped out from behind the tree.

_"Cujo?"_ Dean hissed. _"Damn it, get back here!"_

It was his _'Do what I say right NOW!'_ voice. I ignored him, for the first and only time while we were together. We weren't hunting something that could kill us.

I ran towards the big shaggy.

* * *

When I jumped up on the table the blonde girl looked at me and smiled.

"Well hello there, sweetie. Where'd _you_ come from?" The female had a kind, soft face. She reached out with her hand, and at first I tensed up a little. I thought she was going to grab me, but then she put her hand out so I could sniff at her fingers.

So I did. She smelled like flowers and dustdry books. I know about booksmells because Dean and his Dad had a lot of them in those bags of theirs. I'd always lay down on them. The books, I mean. Why should they pay that much attention to those flat old things when they've got _me_ around?

I like a human with manners, one that's not so grabby, so I told the female so by gently bumping my nose against her fingers. The book smell made me sneeze. I allowed her to skritch me behind my ears and underneath my chin, but I never took my eyes off the Sam.

Bast, he was huge. And hairy. Bigger and hairier than Dean. Big dark hair, big eyes, big hands.

I stared at big shaggy, and he stared right back at me.

Huh. So _this_ was what all the fuss was about.

He put his hand out toward me. I grunted (_Touch me and you'll draw back a stump)_ and he pulled his hand right back.

Okay, So he wasn't as dumb as he looked.

He tilted his head to one side and stared at me. More to the point, he stared at my collar. He saw the charms the big man and the Jesus man hung from there, and his eyes got wide.

Big shaggy shook his head. "No. Can't be." He kept looking around with his eyes all squinty and narrowed.

I _eowed_ at him. _Yeah, it can be._

"Sam?" The female sounded worried. "What's the matter?"

"That's - " He nodded at me. "I don't-" He couldn't get what he wanted to say out.

I stepped over to the edge of the table. I'd had a good look, seen all I wanted to see, and I needed to get back to Dean. It was time to go.

The female didn't try to stop me. Like I said, she had manners.

Shaggy boy didn't.

He reached out and grabbed me.

As soon as I felt his big hands on me my eyes went to slits. My fur bushed out. I let out this growl that shook my whole body from my ears to my tail.

The Samboy froze.

"Uh, S-Sam?" the girl said quietly.

I looked around at him and then I got mad. Really _really_ mad. I flattened my whiskers back. I showed him my teeth. He was afraid of me. I could smell fear on him, all sharp and prickly.

Good.

Both his hands came away from me so fast it was like he had springs in his arms.

I jumped down to the ground. I wanted to run off, but I didn't. Not yet.

_He grabbed me. He touched me. _

I didn't like that.

If I bit him, if I slashed him with my claws, I knew Dean wouldn't like that. Not at all. But I couldn't leave without letting big shaggy know exactly how I felt.

So I backed up to him, lifted my tail and sprayed on the leg of his blue jeans and that big shoe of his.

_Dean's mine. All mine. You left him. Now stay away._

The Samboy looked down at me. "HEYYYY!"

We stared at each other long and hard, and there it was, what Dean called "Sammy's bitchface."

Huh. Not half as good as mine.

I gave it right back to him, then I ran back to Dean. There were a lot of people out and about, but when I looked back the Sam stayed right where he was. He didn't follow me. He was too busy hopping around like a stork, with his face all red.

* * *

Dean was still hiding behind that tree. I don't know why. He wasn't so sad anymore.

"Decided to come back, huh?" I could tell he was mad at me, and that was better. _That_ I could do something about.

I walked up to him, sat down, looked him right in the eyes and gave him the silent meow.

His eyes went from hard to soft in an instant. Better. _Much_ better.

He bent down and scooped me up. "Don't you _ever_ do that again, y'hear me?"

I grunted at him (_Nope. I won't_) and bumped his hand with my head.

Dean hugged me to his chest, then glanced around the tree one more time. Big shaggy was still cussing and shaking his leg. His face was still red. The female had her hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook a lot. She was trying really hard not to laugh.

"Damn." Dean's eyes narrowed. Then he looked down at me. "Cujo, what the hell did you _do_?"

I looked up at my human boy with my most innocent, wide-eyed face._ Who, meeee? _I purred. _Nothing. Nothing at all._

Dean carried me back to the big black car, and I never stopped purring, even as we drove away.

* * *

Dean's POV is next.


	2. Attagirl

_**A/N: **_My muse informed me that this fic was not finished yet, and deannaG and LeeMarieJack wanted to see the aftermath and some brotherly interaction. This chapter choose Dean's POV, so here it 'tis.

**_Warning:_** Dean curses. Yeah, like you didn't know that.

* * *

_**Part 2 – Attagirl**_

Just past the Cali border into Nevada I decided to pull over. I'd been driving nonstop so it was time to take a break. That far out in the boonies there's nothing out there but sparse grass and some trees and bushes. Not even a rest stop, but that's okay. I'm not feeling real sociable anyway and I'm not hungry. At least not yet, anyway.

Soon as I pull over and turn my girl's engine off Cujo gets up and stretches. Then she climbs up over my shoulder onto the back bench and jumps out of the window onto the ground. She's got her eye on some mouthy old brown squirrel in a nearby tree. He's in for a world of hurt when she catches him. I get out, groan a little as I stretch my legs. Can't roll that knot of tension out between my shoulders. I close my girl's door behind me and watch Cuje chase after the tree rat.

She's a funny little cat. I get the feeling she wouldn't like it if I told her that. Funny and bossy too. Six pounds soaking wet, but I trust her more than I'd trust a ninety pound Rottie or any other big dog, especially on a hunt.

Never really thought of myself as a cat person, y'know? Cats are for chicks, dogs are for dudes. Well, I was wrong. Bobby said once that cats have one paw in Heaven and the other in Hell. Or was that Keenu Reeves in _Constantine_? Whatever. I believe that now. Animals can sense fuglies quicker than we can. I pay attention to her when we're on a hunt. When she starts growling and hissing and staring at something I can't see she's always on target, faster than any EMF reader I could come up with.

Me and Dad had to split up. I get that, I really do. We got a job to do out here, and with both of us mobile, him in that big black truck of his and me and Cujo in the Impala we can cover more ground this way.

Only…

Sometimes I don't feel like getting up when I'm not hunting. If I were alone, well…I don't know if I would. If I were alone I can see myself rolling into town, checking out the locals, getting the lay of the land, and if there was no fugly action hitting the sack early and not waking up until nightfall. Then I'd go out and hustle pool or pick up women at bars, but I might not even do that. Going to a liquor store and picking up Johnnie, Jack and Josè and drinking myself stupid sounds more like a plan too, but the downside to that one is I'd have to sober up pretty damn quick if Dad called, and I never know _when_ he'll call.

With Cujo around I have someone else to look out for, same as I did when Dad and Sam were around. She wakes me up in the morning. I have to get my ass up and see that she's fed, scoop out her litter box and play with her. And it's not a matter of I _have_ to, more like I _want_ to. She's a damn good reason to get up, that's all. Cujo talks all the time about stuff she sees, tells me exactly what's on her mind. Reminds me so much of Sammy it's not even funny. She keeps me busy; I don't have time to think about how much I hate being alone. She's with me, so I'm not alone. Sounds girly, right? Too damn emo?

I try to avoid that crap as much as I can. What good does it do to think like that?

The best part is Cujo doesn't ask me about my damn feelings like Sam did. She doesn't rag on me about what I did or how or why I did it that way, like Dad does sometimes. They mean well. That's just the way they are. Doesn't mean she likes everything I do, either. She bitches me out when I clip her claws. She's never tried to bite me when I check her for bumps, cuts and bites after a hunt, but she'll drop her claws on me in a heartbeat if I try to give her a bath.

People that don't know 'em think cats are stuck up, and in a way they are. But what gets me is the way her eyes glow when she looks at me, and the head bump I always get.

Cujo slips into her duffel and I can take her just about anywhere with me, laundromat, library, you name it. Well, okay, I couldn't slip Sasquatch into a duffel, except when he was a baby, but you get the idea.

I lean back against my girl and watch the traffic go by. Good weather, nice and warm. I hope the next job's somewhere nice. Nearly froze our asses off on the last two jobs.

I'm pretty sure that Cujo peed on Sam.

I didn't have a clear view of her when she jumped down from the table. There were too many people walking around, and I couldn't take a chance being spotted out in the open. I saw enough, though. From the way Sam was jumping around cussing, I got a pretty good idea. I can fill in the blanks.

Might have to do some searches on the net to find out why she did that. Never heard of a girl cat marking. I've seen the boys do it. If she's sick I'll take her to the vet. No problem.

The bushes rustle and the mighty hunter comes back looking pretty damn pleased with herself. She's had her fun. Apparently all she wanted was to chase that squirrel, not catch him. Otherwise she would have caught him and given him to me as a present. She's done that before. Even brought me some dead mice one time. I think she wants me to eat them.

No thanks. Pass.

Cujo jumps up on the hood and struts over to me. Wants me to scratch her ears, so I do.

When my cell goes off I keep right on scratching with one hand as I flip the phone open with the other. I don't look at the caller ID. I know who it is.

"DEAN WHAT WAS THAT WHY DID THAT CAT PEE ON ME YOU HAVE A CAT NOW A CAT AND DAD DIDN'T EVEN WANT ME TO HAVE A DOG WHEN I WAS A KID HOW THE HELL-"

Huh. Bitchface right off the bat. Time to amp this up.

"Hey, hold on, hold on."

_We have industrial strength bitchface in five…four…_

"Who is this?" I sound pretty convincing, like I really don't know.

…_three…two…_

"Wh-whaat?"

…_one…_

"I said. Who. Is. This?"

_Bitchface. We have bitchface. _"_It's Sam!"_

"Ohhh, _Sam_." I roll my eyes as I lean back against the car. "So what can I do you out of, Gilligan? To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"What's the deal with that cat? You have a cat now?"

Talk about being a total ass. No "Hello, Dean, how the hell are ya?" or "Hey, it's me." Sam hadn't called me in almost a year, and I'm in no mood for sharing and caring just because he wants me to, damn it.

"Cat?" I look down at Cujo and grin at her. She grins right back. "What cat?"

"Those symbols on the collar. Bobby has the same ones on his dogs-"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. You know how many hunters Bobby knows? A whole lot. So what the heck makes you think this mystery cat belongs to me? What's got your panties all in a bunch anyway?"

"It peed on me!"

_Sweet._

"So what'd you do to piss this feline off, anyway?"

"Ummm…it jumped up on the table and I grabbed it."

"Uh huh." _A few drops of piss versus teeth and claws. You got off light, dude._ I don't say that out loud.

Let him wonder.

"Dude, next time you should keep your hands to yourself and not go around grabbing strange pussy - cats."

I smirk a little. Can't help it. That was _soo_ damn dirty.

Sam's bitchface goes thermo-nuclear. I can feel the heat coming at me, and I know dummy's standing there glaring at his phone.

"So," I say finally. "Anything else you wanna talk to me about?"

There's a loud click, and my ear fills with dead air. He hung up on me. My give a damn's busted by this time. Our life, our _family_ isn't good enough for him. He wants normal, even though he knows damn well what's out there. Shadows have teeth.

I close the phone and slip it back in my jacket pocket. When I stopped scratching her and pulled my hand away Cujo fussed at me: _I didn't tell you to stop._

"So you peed on him, huh?"

She gives me that wide-eyed innocent look. _Me? Oh, nooo. Not me._

Nice try, princess.

"Let's eat out tonight. You want seafood? Shrimp?"

Her ears stand straight up. She grunts at me and twitches that stubby little tail of hers. I take that as a _yes_.

Hey, the credit cards were good. It was the least I could do for a job well done.

-30-

_**A/N:**_ Female cats (even spayed ones) will mark if they feel strongly about another housemate or if they are feeling territorial.

And now _we're _done.


End file.
